


Choke It Down

by dovingbird



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Abuse, Blood, Fighting, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 23:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1243939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovingbird/pseuds/dovingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>”You don’t even know what you feel.” Arin barks out a harsh laugh, dark and hazy, and the lights flicker again in time with the thunder. “Do you want me to help you figure it out?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choke It Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



"There's _how_ many of you?"  
  
"Four." Danny taps his chest. "Me, Arin Hanson, Barry Kramer, and Ross O'Donovan."  
  
The clerk behind the counter has a mild look of panic on her face, as if they hired her just for the con rush and only gave her about five minutes of training. She clacks away at the keyboard. "I...I have Daniel Avidan and Arin Hanson..."  
  
Danny glances over his shoulder to where Ross just knocked over the luggage and Barry is trying very seriously to scold him while Arin laughs. "Well, I mean, it _was,_ originally, but we added Ross and Barry a month or two ago, and they said-"  
  
"Yeah, they're right here..." She's analyzing the con's schedule now, pushing her glasses a little farther up her nose. "But we don't have those names in the system for room reservations..."  
  
Dan pauses, wrinkling his brow. "...well, shit." He chuckles, because a smile and a hand through your hair opens a world of doors. "Can we get another couple of rooms now?"  
  
She winces. "We're booked solid."  
  
"Right. Con." He nods slowly. "So we have one room?"  
  
"Two. One for you, one for Mr. Hanson."  
  
"How many beds?"  
  
"There's two queen beds in each of our rooms on that floor."  
  
Danny looks again, catches Arin's eyes. The younger man lifts his eyebrows, a silent _"What's up?"_ and Dan smiles, waving him off. "All right, that's fine." He turns to sign the paperwork slid toward him. "We'll share."  
  
When he heads over to the boys again, only two folders of keys in hand, Arin furrows his brow. "Two?"  
  
Danny's almost painfully aware of the clerk, how she's red-faced and flustered and just doing her job, and God help him but he can't just throw someone under the bus like that, especially when she can still maybe hear them, so he holds Arin's eyes and tries to pull a Suzy where he can telepathically transmit a _"Shut the fuck up"_ to him. "Yeah, two rooms, four beds."  
  
Arin nods slowly, looking down at the folders. "...huh." And then he looks at Barry. "You snore, right?"  
  
"Yeah, like a pig."  
  
"Cool. You and Ross, me and Danny."  
  
Ross straightens up in spite. "Oh, c'mon, what the hell!" He doesn't even take the keys when Danny offers them, so Barry swipes it instead.  
  
"I'm a light sleeper," Arin says patiently, reaching up to pat Ross's cheek and grinning when he bobs away. "Besides, Danny and Barry have got to be sick of each other already, right?"  
  
"Totally." Barry picks up his suitcase.  
  
"Yeah, fuck him." Danny grins. "So, what, dinner at seven after the second panel?"  
  
"Sure, if Ross is done pouting by then."  
  
"I'm not pouting!"  
  
He totally is.  
  
~~  
  
The panel's going perfectly, and all four of them are on point, and the energy's buzzing and they're all building on each other infectiously, and Danny's pretty sure they've never been this in tune with each other, not even during their most popular videos. It's amazing. Arin gets Ross going at one point, laughing so hard that his face is red and his accent is out to play, and it's so beautiful that Danny is praying to God someone is getting this whole fucking thing on tape so they can make fun of him later.  
  
A girl gets the mic next, dressed head-to-toe in a unicorn kigurumi that Barry compliments, and she waggles her eyebrows as she asks if they've got a D Club meeting scheduled for that night.  
  
"Oh man, you've got the whole Grumps D Club chapter present here," Arin says with a wicked smirk. "It's inevitable."  
  
"Does that mean you're the president?" the girl teases as the room hoots.  
  
"Most definitely! President Egoraptor..." He pats Danny's chest. "Vice-President Sexbang..."  
  
"That is _not_ true," Danny says into his own mic, smacking Arin's hand away. "That is the _opposite_ of true."  
  
Barry laughs. "Careful, he'll demote you to treasurer."  
  
"Or mascot!" Ross shouts.  
  
And all the attention's on him, and it's weird because it makes his cheeks flush, and that _never_ happens. He thrives in the limelight. But he looks at Arin and holds his eyes, takes in that little smirk of his and how he's slowly lifting his eyebrow like an invitation, and his mind goes completely blank. There's not a damn witty thing he can say. So he takes advice from his classes and plays the fool and buries his head in his arms, and the audience coos in sympathy and lets him off the hook. By the time they get to the next question, Danny has resurfaced and is ready for action once more, the way Arin was watching him already forgotten.  
  
  
~~  
  
  
Their second panel that day is a few hours later regarding Starbomb, and so between the panels Dan decides to say "Fuck it" and go check out anything else that's going down. He's pretty remarkably ignored, surprisingly enough, though he catches a few groups staring at him with wide eyes and flashes them a smile and feels that weird little ego swell that happens every time they start whispering and getting visibly excited about him smiling at them. They got pretty damn lucky, the Grumps, getting the fans they have. They're all right.  
  
A brave girl finally gets the courage to come up to him when he's glancing through the dealer room. She's cute and shy, can't be more than sixteen years old, and she's clearly flustered in his presence, so of course he turns the full force of his attention on her just to see her borderline on glow at him. She starts asking questions about the next Starbomb album, even goes as far to make some surprisingly informed comments regarding the harmonies he chose for the vocals on "Regretroid" and "The Book of Nook," so it's a conversation he's finding it tough to tear away from.  
  
It's a gentle hand on the small of his back that makes him jolt, turn his head to catch a whiff of Arin's cologne as he murmurs in his ear. "Hey man, something went down with the room for the Starbomb panel. Apparently they double-booked without realizing it?"  
  
"Geez."  
  
"Yeah." He grins at the girl Dan was talking to, giving her a quick nod and a "Hey there, how are ya?" before going back to nearly whispering the words in Danny's ear. "They've moved us to tomorrow, same time, the room across from the original one, all right?"  
  
He smells sort of alarmingly good, actually, something strangely whispy and feminine, and Danny finds himself searching his mind, trying to remember if Suzy ever wore anything like that in the past. But no. It smells like Arin. Feels like him down to the core. He flicks his eyes over Arin's face without thinking as he nods. "Cool."  
  
"Just wanted to let you know." Arin moves his hand to pat his shoulder instead, giving it a squeeze. "Later."  
  
And it's a shame, really, because he can't get his head back into the conversation with the girl who waited so patiently because all he can think about is how his shoulder is still so warm and how fucking weird that is.  
  
  
~~  
  
  
They all grab dinner, of course, and even a couple of drinks in the hotel's bar, and by the time they make it back to their respective rooms Danny is about ready to pass out. He smells absolutely atrocious, though, and he's all sweaty and gross and feels covered in the tastes and smells of a con, which is like his least favorite thing in the world, so he grabs a shower.  
  
His routine's a little backwards when he's this tired, though, so he figures out as soon as he sticks his head under the showerhead that he left all his shit in the bedroom. Whatever. He makes do with the little travel bottles of shampoo and soap and whatever else from the hotel and dries off, wrapping himself up in a towel at the waist before opening the door.  
  
"Dude," he calls. "Just wanted to warn you about my beautiful bod showing up so you don't spike a boner or something."  
  
Arin snorts, even chuckles a little. "Takes more than that to get me going, man."  
  
"Says the D Club President." But it's safe, then, and Danny's not really sure why he was worried in the first place, so he wanders out and rustles a hand through his hair, sending water flying everywhere. "Mr. Dude-I-Have-A-Wicked-Boner-Right-Now-Come-Look-At-It."  
  
"That wasn't me, you jackass," Arin says with another laugh, and Danny starts grinning even as he ducks his head and tries to hide it. "But if you're so jealous that you weren't part of that time in my life, then fine, the next time I get a wicked boner I'll come wave it in your face."  
  
"Jesus Fucking Christ."  
  
"You know what's funny?"  
  
Danny starts going through his suitcase, careful to keep his towel closed. "What's that?"  
  
"For someone who is So Totally Not Gay, you have this weird habit of bringing up the D Club every three seconds."  
  
Danny freezes, fingers tangled in his boxers, his mind coming to another alarming stop. He licks his lips, trying to regain focus. "I do not."  
  
"You do too."  
  
"Do _not._ "  
  
"Dude, you totally do!" Arin's amused again, of course. "What's up with that?"  
  
"I-I just think it's really weird, okay?"  
  
"Then why would you keep bringing it up? You think Justin Bieber's weird, but you don't talk about him all the time. The exact opposite, actually."  
  
He starts haphazardly dragging random shit out of the suitcase to find his most comfortable pair of pajamas and his bag of toiletries. "Just forget it."  
  
A moment of silence before Arin breaks it. "Seriously? That's it?"  
  
"We're not being recorded. We don't have to keep it going. So just drop it, cool?"  
  
More silence, so long that Danny has time to get up and start heading toward the bathroom again before he hears Arin reply. "Yeah, all right, whatever you want."  
  
He dumps his toiletries on the sink and tosses his clothes into the bathroom before turning to start brushing his teeth. He's only a few seconds in before he glances through the mirror at Arin, finally getting the courage he was lacking for some reason to see him before, because he's desperate to know that he didn't just offend him or something. Arin is watching him, too, but his eyes are tracing up and down Danny's torso, focusing every once and a while before continuing to move on. He feels an odd little buzzing sensation every time that Arin stops, as if he can feel the exact spot that he's looking at. It's...it's weird. Danny's brushing comes to a slow stop, and the silence is enough to make Arin meet his eyes in a flash before flicking back down to his iPhone.  
  
He should've roomed with Ross. He can already tell.  
  
  
~~  
  
  
When he does pass out he's out like a light, but he has only a few hours of strange, trippy dreams before all the liquid he consumed that night comes back to haunt him and shocks him awake so that he can go take a piss. He does so, wandering blearily into the bathroom and taking care of business, and then stumbles back to his bed, literally landing facefirst into it because he doesn't give a fuck, he's so tired, and sleeping in weird beds just makes him stiff and unhappy.  
  
He eventually crawls up to his pillow and snuggles into it, curving his long legs up toward his chest, and attempts the sleeping process again. He gets close. He really does. But then he hears a strange sound, and it's enough to make him wake up in a rush, eyes wide open.  
  
He shifts, looking over at Arin's bed. And there it is again. Not a sigh. Not quite. But breathy nonetheless. A little shaky.  
  
No, he knows that sound, though, because Danny himself makes that same noise whenever he's rubbing one out.  
  
Is he serious? Is Arin seriously over there jacking himself off while he thinks Danny's asleep? But no, that's bullshit, and Arin's smarter than that. He'd go take a shower. Hell, he'd just go in the fucking bathroom, shower not needed. So what else could it be? Is he just fucking with Danny? But it's - he checks the clock - five in the morning, and they have to do a panel tomorrow, and so that doesn't make any sense either.  
  
It's a soft groan this time, and Danny immediately rests his forehead against his pillow and swallows, tries to ignore the way something shivers in the base of his stomach.  
  
Groans and moans are inherently sexy, and Danny himself is a talker when it comes to making love, so he can convince himself that it's okay. Someone in the room is having a really interesting dream and making attractive noises, so that person's gender is inconsequential at the moment. It's just sort of weird that it's Arin having the dream.  
  
It's even weirder that he's listening a little harder.  
  
He gives a little experimental grind against the mattress, blinks when he realizes that he's actually getting a little hard himself. Maybe it's just something he woke up with, whatever, just his testosterone stirring up while he slept, but it's there, and Arin's sounds quietly picking up in frequency makes a strange little jolt shoot through him. He's uncomfortable and interested at the same time.  
  
Danny rolls onto his side and absently ghosts a hand over his cock, palming himself through his shorts. It's not planned, not intended, and he's definitely not trying to get off, but he does it all the same, and it feels really good, and doing it one more time while another quiet moan ripples through the air makes a shiver dance down his entire spine.  
  
And then he hears it.  
  
"Dan..."  
  
Danny stiffens, his entire body painfully tense as he stares in horror through the darkness toward the other bed in the room. He didn't just hear that. He's...he's making it up.  
  
"...Danny..."  
  
He immediately flips over, back to Arin, and curls up, trying to block out the noises with his arm over his ear. He doesn't hear his name again. The soft sounds become quieter and quieter until they fade into nothingness, as Arin moves from one dream into the next. Arin continues to sleep soundly.  
  
Danny doesn't sleep a wink for the rest of the night.  
  
  
~~~  
  
  
"Dude, you look like shit."  
  
"Thanks," Danny murmurs dryly. Arin woke up fresh as a daisy, of course, and immediately ordered them some breakfast to be brought up to the room, and Danny's still laying in bed and staring at the ceiling and pretending that he'll get through the day without about eight thousand caffeine pills.  
  
"No, seriously." Arin shoves the stack of French toast that Danny ordered toward him before grabbing his own pancakes and starting to dig in. "What the hell happened? Didn't sleep well last night?"  
  
Danny blearily meets his eyes, holding them firmly. "Oh, y'know. Just had some really weird dreams."  
  
Arin stares back. "Yeah?"  
  
"Mm-hmm."  
  
He takes a bite. Chews and swallows. "What kind of dreams?"  
  
He can't figure out if Arin's playing the same game Danny is or if he's just super dense right now, so he lets it go. "I can't even remember. I just remember they were weird and I kept tossing and turning."  
  
"That sucks."  
  
"Mm."  
  
They pick at their food for a few moments in silence before Arin chuckles and shakes his head. "No, seriously, you look terrible."  
  
"Oh my God." Danny shoves the plate away and glares at him. "I'm sorry I'm not pretty enough for our panel."  
  
Arin shrugs, looking completely nonrepentent. "We can change that."  
  
Danny blinks. "...what, you gonna make me up like Suzy?"  
  
Arin grins.  
  
" _No._ "  
  
"I'm not gonna put eyeliner on you or something, hot as that might be." He waggles his eyebrows and Danny looks back down at his food, cutting into a piece of the toast with a vengeance. "I could just, like, do some foundation and concealer, make you look like you actually slept a little."  
  
"Arin, you forget I know you, and that means the second you've got the brush in your hands you'll start putting on eyeshadow and blush..."  
  
Arin laughs, waving him off with his fork. "Not this time, I promise. It'll just be like when you're getting ready for NSP videos."  
  
Danny points his own fork at him. "Do you swear on Mimi's eventual grave?"  
  
"I _swear._ "  
  
"All right."  
  
Arin sits Danny down in front of the mirror, the lights blasting his tired eyes so intensely that he just wants to close them and never wake up. The fact that he actually has Suzy's make-up bag on him makes Danny cock an eyebrow. Arin blinks at him through the mirror. "What? You never know what you're gonna need."  
  
"You're not convincing me you're not gay right now," Danny drawls with a smirk.  
  
"Pssh." Arin shrugs. "People like make-up. Suzy likes make-up. And hell, I look good in it. If I wanna wear it, that doesn't make me gay." He pulls out a tube of concealer and takes Danny's wrist, dabbing it there and testing how it blends in with his skin tone. "If people wanna think I'm gay, then fuck 'em. I've got the most gorgeous wife in the world. And you know what, _fuck_ labels, that too. Why do we even have to go around putting them on everything? If I like pussy, I like pussy. If I like dick, I like dick. Maybe I like both. Maybe I only like some. Whatever."  
  
Danny quirks a brow. "You have a lot of feelings about this."  
  
"I grew up with everybody calling me gay, like it was an insult. And it's not. So fuck them all."  
  
Danny's quiet as Arin kneels down in front of him, eye-to-eye, and nibbles his bottom lip in concentration as he starts tracing concealer over the bags under his eyes. He can barely feel it. He stares at Arin's face, watching the way his eyes hone in and focus. "...have you ever...been into a guy before?"  
  
Arin flicks his eyes up to meet his for a long moment before going back to work. "Does it matter?"  
  
"I-I'm just wondering."  
  
"Why do you wanna know?"  
  
His skin is vibrating, for some reason, like all the atoms are trying to burst out. "Like, I mean...you had the D Club and all-"  
  
"You're looking for a way to fit me in a neat little box. And I don't go that way." He pauses to toss his head, to get his hair out of his eyes. "Dan, I'm just being your best friend when I say you've got some things you need to work through in your head. And one of them is just how uncomfortable the thought about things like the D Club or whatever makes you. You have to ask yourself why. 'Cuz it's not going anywhere. The fact that I've touched dicks with another guy is always gonna be there, and it's always gonna be joked about, and you can't keep having this weird sense of superiority because you haven't."  
  
"I don't have superiority about it."  
  
Arin meets his eyes one more time, and that makes Danny close his mouth again. "The only thing that makes you gay is having exclusive interest in somebody of the same gender. And I'm not gay." He puts the tube of concealer away and pulls out the powder, swirling the brush through it. "Because I have Suzy. And I'm super into her."  
  
But Danny's not lost on the fact that he doesn't say he's exclusively into Suzy or girls in general. And that may as well have just confirmed his thoughts.  
  
They don't talk again for a good three minutes, not until Arin moves out of the way and lets Danny see his work and swear in appreciation. And by then they're smiling and buddies again, like Arin hasn't just taken him to task and given him a hell of a lot to think through.  
  
But this is Magfest. And that means any of those thoughts are gonna have to wait until it's over.  
  
  
~~  
  
  
At first Danny sort of decides to do his own thing that day again, just wandering around, just doing whatever he wants to do, but he's so bleary-eyed and unfocused that after he walks directly into a wall and almost tramples some teenagers sitting on the floor Arin is suddenly there, grabbing his arm, guiding him away to a little nook and shoving some coffee in his hands. He has no idea how long Arin's been watching his back, but he drinks the coffee down gratefully, almost chugging it in his desperate desire to wake up a little. Arin is close in that nook, one hand holding him up against the wall as he leans close enough to ask if Danny's okay, really okay, or if he needs Arin to go buy a shitton of energy drinks or caffeine pills to get through the last panel, and it's weird, but he smells really nice still. Danny doesn't even know what to make of it. His head is swimming in that whispy scent, foggy and grey, and when he finally comes up it's when Arin is leading him along again with a hand on his wrist, telling him he's gonna grab a powernap before the coffee kicks in, dammit.  
  
It's just weird. Arin is taking care of him. He's always known instinctively that Arin's one of his best friends, known that he'd go out of his way to help Arin out if the time ever came around, but this is the first time he's ever seen him so selflessly giving of himself and expecting absolutely no attention or recognition in return.  
  
Arin leaves him alone in the room to nap, and Danny falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, but he has a strange series of almost feverish dreams, filled with hands running over his body and fingers tracing his cock and full, warm lips hovering just above his skin, and every time the camera will zoom back just a little, just enough, to catch sight of the soft beginnings of facial hair and a nose that he knows way too well, and then the scene will shift, putting him somewhere else just before the fingertips glide through his happy trail. And they repeat again. And again.  
  
By the time the caffeine kicks in and he jolts away, his entire body shaking, he feels sick to his stomach. It takes him a few seconds to realize that the shaking isn't just the coffee chugging. It's the fact that Arin's gotten into his head.  
  
Danny's just exhausted enough to be almost painfully paranoid. He sits on the edge of the bed and slowly rocks back and forth, biting his lip so hard that he almost makes it bleed, digging his fingers into the edge of the mattress. Something's happened. Something's happened and he doesn't like it. He glances up, staring at Arin's bed, swears that he can see the indentation where he was laying in it last night dreaming of Danny, wonders if there's a little spot on the sheets from precum bleeding through his boxers.  
  
This has gone too far. And the shittiest thing is that he can't quite figure out if this is all a product of paranoia or if the exhaustion is just ripping down walls in his mind and making him stand face-to-face with mirrors he never thought were there.  
  
Arin shows up not even two minutes later with more coffee and a look of utmost concern on his face, and it takes every lick of training and focus for Danny to swallow the need to break down. He mentally talks himself down from the beginnings of anxiety. He takes the coffee and is very careful not to brush his fingers against Arin's, even though it means he almost drops the piping hot cup on his own lap. And then he drinks it down, fights to get his head in the game.  
  
They have a panel, after all.  
  
  
~~  
  
  
They get through the panel. Or, rather, Danny _thinks_ they do, because he honestly can't remember a lick of it. Arin insists that he was absolutely hilarious, that they both were, that the crowd ate it up, that they're gonna sell even more CDs thanks to it, but all Danny knows is that when Arin, Ross, and Barry wanna go get dinner again he makes his excuses and wanders up to his room.  
  
It's dark at this point, made even more ominous by the sound of soft thunder and the gentle blowing of rain against their balcony window. Danny kicks off his ratty old tennis shoes and pads around the room in his socks, running his hands through his hair, breathing a little harder than he should be. He half-expects Arin to follow him up to the room, conscious that something is wrong and wanting to help.  
  
He doesn't. And that stings somehow.  
  
He gets an hour and a half to pace and think and fret. He thinks about little things, almost panic-inducing things, like how the best part of his day is when he and Arin are getting together for Grump recording sessions, or when they're grabbing ice cream with Suzy afterward, or when he's shoved into a booth beside him when they all go to grab Del Taco just to make Ross shut up. How he's brilliant and makes Danny think even when Dan doesn't want to. How he's funny and so talented even for being as young as he is, how the sky is literally the limit with him. How he loves him to death.  
  
And he means that platonically, he really does, but he's so exhausted and borderline on crying that he realizes that maybe there's something else there too.  
  
He remembers a conversation that he and Barry had one night over ramen, when Barry had been doing some random reading and Wiki-walking that led to him just pulling out random facts about attraction he'd seen. Three types: sexual attraction, aesthetic attraction, and romantic attraction. How sometimes they overlapped and sometimes they didn't. How it could get nigh on impossible to pick out exactly which one you were feeling.  
  
Dan collapses facefirst against one of the walls right beside the balcony door and holds himself there, head down, hands gripping helplessly at the smooth wall, and that's where he is when the lock clicks behind him and the door opens and then quietly shuts again.  
  
"...Dan?"  
  
He curls his fingers a little tighter, clawing desperately.  
  
"Danny, are you okay?"  
  
He can't listen to Arin's voice right now, warm and soft and like a piece of silk being dragged down his naked skin. He literally can't handle it. He hangs his head a little more and feels the strain on the back of his neck.  
  
"...Dan, you need to go to bed, dude."  
  
"I'm fine," Danny bites out, just a little over a whisper.  
  
"That's a load of bullshit. Get your ass in bed right now."  
  
Danny turns his head and looks at Arin straight on, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, and Arin freezes where he was putting his hoodie on the back of their chair. He says it again, words nice and slow. "I'm. Fine."  
  
Arin resumes his movements, draping the hoodie and then coming toward him slowly. "...are you sure?"  
  
"I'm normal. Completely normal. Completely fine." His words get a little faster the closer that Arin gets, and he turns to press back against the wall. "You don't, uh, don't have to get any closer."  
  
Arin tilts his head to the side. "I just wanna make sure you're cool." He doesn't stop.  
  
But that's not okay because if Arin gets close then Danny can smell him again and read the concern in his eyes all the better and he doesn't want that, that's the _last_ thing he wants, and thunder sounds again, a little closer than before, and the lights flicker, making Danny tense up even more. "Just stop." He doesn't. "Stop!" he shouts, voice cracking.  
  
Arin finally freezes, just a few feet away from him, hands lifting like Danny's armed. "Okay, okay, I'm here. I'm gonna stay here. It's okay." And he's cool and calm and it's like he's gone through something like this before, coming face-to-face with sheer anxious panic, and for some reason that just makes Danny more frustrated because does that mean this has happened _before?_ How many times has Arin taken somebody and completely flipped them on their head? Is this some sort of sick game to him?  
  
And that's when he realizes that the panic is starting to shift into something else.  
  
"Talk to me, Danny. Tell me what you're thinking about."  
  
"Nothing," Dan spits, not even considering the words, just letting them flow. "I'm not thinking about anything."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Positive."  
  
"Because you look really...not okay."  
  
That's not calming at all. He feels something kick up in his blood. "Well, I'm fine. I'm completely okay."  
  
Arin licks his lips, the son of a bitch, and keeps his eyes square on Danny's. "...does this have to do with this morning? What we talked about?"  
  
"No, it doesn't have anything to do with your fucking soapbox." And they keep going, the words, because his blood is churning into a frothing mess of pure anger, so vivid he can almost taste it on his tongue. "Or you being all high-and-mighty about me being a piece of shit because, hey, maybe touching dicks with another guy makes me super uncomfortable - God, maybe just the _thought_ of it fucks me up-"  
  
"Whoa Dan, hold up, what the fuck?" Arin's entire face is twisting in confusion, like he doesn't know, like this hasn't been on his mind the whole day like it's been on Danny's, the son of a bitch, that doesn't even make _sense._  
  
"-and you're all, hey, figure it out and get over it! Like it's that easy? Are you fucking kidding me?!" Dan slams his palm into the wall, hard enough that it burns his whole hand, before shoving his index finger in Arin's face. "I am so fucking pissed at you right now, I can't stand it."  
  
Arin's face has run the gamut in these few seconds, confusion to frustration to sheer anger, and God, that's actually a pretty scary thing to see, so when Arin suddenly throws himself forward, one hand on either side of Danny's shoulders and mouth sneering, Dan presses even closer to the wall, like he can become one with it and slip out the other side. "You don't have a right to be pissed at me," Arin murmurs.  
  
"Don't tell me what I can feel and what I can't," Danny shoots right back. "Don't you dare."  
  
" _You_ don't even know what you feel." Arin barks out a harsh laugh, dark and hazy, and the lights flicker again in time with the thunder. "Do you want me to help you figure it out?"  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Why don't you?" Arin grabs him by the shoulders and squeezes, standing up tall enough where he breathes his words and they brush against Danny's lips. "Why don't you just admit you wanna fuck the shit out of me?"  
  
"Shut up," Danny whispers.  
  
"Why don't you admit we've got something here? Huh? A couple of guys like us? The shit we come up with? How we feed off of each other? We'd be fucking amazing."  
  
Danny shakes his head, clawing at the wall behind him again.  
  
"...and that scares the shit out of you, doesn't it?"  
  
"Get back."  
  
"It scares you that we could be a thing."  
  
"Back the _fuck_ up."  
  
"It scares you that I get you more than just about anybody else, doesn't it?"  
  
"I'm _warning_ you."  
  
"And what're you gonna do?" Their noses brush, and he's too close, he's _way_ too fucking close. "You know the only thing you could do right now? Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I'm reading everything in the dumbest possible way." He pauses, and his tone drops to a whisper. "And you can't, can you?" Even grins at him. "'Cuz you don't like to lie."  
  
And the sick thing is that he's right, every fucking thing he's saying is right, and he knows him way too well, and that's never going to change, and so Danny plants his hands in the middle of his chest and shoves him back. "You're an asshole. God _damn_ it."  
  
The grin shifts into a smirk. "I knew it."  
  
He's so smug. Danny hates it. He hates it and he hates him and his vision's going blurry and tinged with red at the edges and suddenly he's reeling back and punching his smug little smirk off his face in one solid move.  
  
"Fuck!" Arin shouts, falling back and grabbing his jaw. He brings his hand away, stares at the blood on it, tastes the blood pouring out of his bottom lip. "Goddamn it, Danny!"  
  
"I hate you!" Danny screams back, really leaning into it, hands curling into fists at his hips. "You son of bitch, I fucking _hate_ you!"  
  
"Oh yeah?! Good!" And he's not even expecting it when Arin punches him right the fuck back, just gets an explosion behind his eyes when he bangs his head against the wall, gets a fireflower opening up right inside his skull.  
  
How long has this been coming? How long has this been building, until they both throw themselves at each other, fists flying, nails clawing, even Danny lashing out to sink his teeth into Arin's neck at one point and listening to him cry out in some weird combination of pain and ecstasy. They're rolling around on the floor, one on top, then the other, leaving spots of blood all over the carpet, feeling their erections grind into the other's thighs just before they get thrown onto their back again, and when they finally break apart Arin rolls to his feet and grabs a table, the one with the lamp and alarm clock and everything, and just _chucks_ it across the room.  
  
Then they're standing there. Staring. Breathing harder than they ever have before. And Danny's painfully aware of how hard he is, how his throbbing nose is just gushing blood all down his face, how Arin's cheek is already swelling and his lip is busted open, how he's filled with a tidal wave that carries him straight ahead until he has Arin's face in his cracked hands and he's kissing him, devouring him until he can't tell whose blood is whose inside his mouth, on his tongue, and he's sharing it with Arin with every thrust of his tongue past the younger man's lips.  
  
Arin shoves him back an inch, just enough that he can start trailing nips and kisses down Danny's neck, and he groans through them all until words start pouring out, until he's whispering "I hate you so fucking much, Arin, you son of a bitch, you bastard, I wish you'd fucking die and leave me alone for just three fucking seconds-"  
  
And all Arin whispers back is "Fuck me, fuck me _please,_ " over and over and over again until Danny grabs him by the hair and spins him around, shoves him against the wall and pins him there with his chest against his spine as he feverishly rips at Arin's belt, and it's good, it's so fucking good just letting go like this, giving in, hating himself and feeling that shot of adrenaline straight to his brain every time the back of his knuckles brush against Arin's dick, the way it's straining through his pants.  
  
"Where is it?" Danny whispers, because there's gotta be lube somewhere, there just has to be.  
  
"I don't even fucking care, just do it."  
  
"You're not ready for this," he insists. He hates him but he loves him and he's not gonna hurt him like this, not after he's already tasted his blood.  
  
Arin snarls, punches the wall and spits out a curse when all he does is just break open his knuckles. "My suitcase, the front pocket."  
  
So Danny grabs Arin by the collar and drags him to the suitcase, not even caring when he stumbles and winces, that he's probably twisted his ankle or something with all this shit. He finds the bottle, and he rips both of their jeans and boxers down until they're pooled around their ankles, and then he shoves him against the wall again, cheek against the pointy texture, one slick finger working inside of him.  
  
Arin sucks in a sharp breath, pressing his forehead into the wall.  
  
"Does that hurt?" Danny breathes.  
  
Arin groans. "...uh-huh..."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Fuck..."  
  
"I want you to hurt. I want you to regret every single second of this."  
  
Arin laughs roughly, turning his head so he can see Danny from the corner of his eye. "You're such a bastard. I can't believe you."  
  
He shoves more roughly, just to punctuate his statement, just to hear Arin curse softly.  
  
It's too soon when Arin whispers "Another." Danny doesn't care. Just does exactly what he wants.  
  
It's not nearly long enough, how long it takes for him to work from one finger to three, but he's whispering filthy, disgusting things the entire time, feeling Arin grind against the wall and hearing his moans, and as far as he's concerned he's just being merciful. He's just doing what Arin wants, what he's whispering and begging for. So when Arin groans "Do it," this time he listens.  
  
 _Fuck,_ he's tight. Danny spits out a "Shit," shudders against Arin's back, still finds himself moving slowly, ever so slowly, letting Arin get used to him, letting his voice turn from outright pain to reluctant pleasure. It shouldn't matter. He should just want to punish him. He should want to make him bleed.  
  
All he's looking for is the right angle of his hips to make Arin gasp in surprise instead.  
  
Yeah, that's it, right there. Danny targets it and presses Arin as tightly against the wall as he can, picking up speed, pounding right into him, brushing against that little bundle of nerves inside of him with every stroke, trying to pretend that his cock isn't twitching and throbbing inside of him with every moan, with the way that they're getting louder and louder every time he moves. Jesus Christ, it's so fucking hot. It's so _good._  
  
He hates himself for it more than anything else he's done.  
  
"You made me do this," Danny whispers through his sharp breathing, desperate to convince himself.  
  
"I didn't do _shit._ " Arin bites his swollen lip, groans sharply in pain when he catches the bloodied part of it. "Don't you fucking put this on me, you dick."  
  
Danny rests his forehead against the back of Arin's neck, squeezing his eyes shut.  
  
"All I did was love you."  
  
A spark is struck in the base of his belly, a match starting an inferno.  
  
" _You're_ the one about to come inside me, bitch."  
  
Danny growls and nips at the back of his neck, tasting his skin, listening to his moan, and that's what fans the flames into an explosion, so vast and vivid that he loses himself, pounds mercilessly into Arin as he comes, and he doesn't even realize why his hand is burning until he surfaces from his orgasm, sees the shattered glass on the floor, his fist smack dab in the middle of a painting.  
  
He holds Arin against the wall with his body, both of them silent, both of them motionless, and Danny slowly brings his fist down, studies his knuckles, is relieved to see that there aren't any slivers of glass stuck in his skin. Just delayed pain, slowly getting sharper with each passing second.  
  
Arin hasn't come. Danny convinces himself that he doesn't care.  
  
He pulls out, and when Arin turns to face him, furrows his eyebrows as he reaches for Danny's fist, Danny wants nothing more than to pull away, but he lets him grab it anyway. "...you fucked that up, man," Arin murmurs.  
  
And all Danny can do is stare at Arin's broken face and think about the fact that no, they've fucked each other up, and this is only the beginning.


End file.
